Every morning on a normal working day at 7 am I hand my son Sam over to a woman I hardly know and everytime I get the feeling that I’m treating him like luggage at an airport – “here, take care of this and I’ll pick it up on the other side”. I hope I’m not the only one that feels like that? Because as we understand things this is what you do after staying home for a year?
Ofcourse we can only blame ourselves – if we had stayed in our old 41 squaremetet apartment we would have afforded being home more. Or if we’d lived closer to my family they’d happily take care of him. Bu we chose to build a house and it made sense giving a child the same comfort of growing up in a house like I did. But considering that choice now means we have to check him in at a kindergarten for 10 hours a day I’m wondering what’s more important for him…
stoff
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